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Growing Wings – on the move!

Hmmmm, travelling with young kids sure ain’t easy and finding creative time is proving tricky. We are in a new place every few days and to be honest, the kids are pretty grizzly and demanding. I often wonder if holidaying with little kids is worth it. They like routines, being close to their toys, their friends… still, it is interspersed with some beautiful and memorable moments. Hopefully some of these will be highlighted in this month’s photo project. For July’s writing, I attach my first attempt at a children’s story (as you can see I haven’t got far) and a poem about our lost turtle in France… for my first August pic, this is what 8am looks like in our family… Some action pics to come. x Katie

photo (1)

Tortue perdue!

Down a cobblestone road called the Rue de la Harpe

In a far away land across sea

There once was a tale of a turtle who, though male

Was called Penelope

Now Penelope lived in a cobblestone yard

Behind an arched door to the street

She carried a cobblestone shell on her back

And had big reptilian feet

And despite such tales as the tortoise and the hare

Which depict such creatures as slow

Penelope had claws and propelled on all fours

Was as speedy as a light-footed doe

So one glorious day when the sun worked her magic

And made everyone dozy and dopey

One silly grownup – who could later barely own up

Forgot poor Penelope

The arch gate was left open, the big world outside

Penelope took her chance

With her house on her back, she never looked back

But set off to explore all of France

Her carers were horrified when the gate was found open

‘What have we done?’ they cried

They searched under cars, in bins and bars

But find her they couldn’t, though they tried

The carers decided the only option left

Was to print a poster with a plea

Tortue Perdue! said the poster

With a picture of Penelope

Posters were taped to walls and doors

And the animal shelter was told

The carers’ daughter cried ‘turtle’ in her sleep

Her owners cried ‘she’s 25 years old!’

Then three days later when they’d all near given up

A message arrived on the phone

‘J’ai vu une tortue’ said the message

Five magic words sat there alone.

The carer could barely believe it

‘Is it a hoax?’ she cried ‘or a clue?’

‘Tu as vu une tortue?’ She ventured

‘Vraiment? Quand? Ou?’

Soon the trembling carer received a phone call

Penelope was safe and sound

She’d escaped out the wooden arched doorway

And been found on the cobblestone ground

Penelope had been placed in a large ancient garden

Where she’d met a cat and wandered the ground

It was a whole world of adventure for a turtle

Where delights and surprises abound

But she missed the carers’ children

Their tiny hands stroking her chin

She’d glance at the stone wall that divided them

And dream of the cobbled courtyard within

So when big hands swooped down to collect her

She stretched out her chin for a stroke

And was safely placed back in the courtyard

A turtle returned to her folk

So that’s the tale of Penelope

A lesson for me and for you

Keep closed the wooden arched doorway

Or you’ll find your tortue perdue!

Ellie’s story

One morning, not such a long time ago, Ellie sighed and climbed down the ladder of her bed.

Her father had built the bed when Ellie was just out of a cot and though the mattress was lumpy and the feathery doona musty, Ellie loved her bed and this morning wished – as she had many times – that she could pull the doona over her head and make a secret world beneath its folds.

But she climbed down her ladder and pulled on her slippers and made her way to the kitchen because today was a school day, and it went without saying that school days were full of musts and getting out of bed In Good Time was the first.

As she shuffled into the kitchen Ellie’s father greeted her with a booming Good Morning – ‘Quite out of place on any day other than the weekend’, muttered Ellie to herself – and a steaming crumpet which was not so out of place and quite welcomed on such a grey, drizzly day.

‘What does today portend, muffin?’ asked her father, mouth full of crumpet.

‘Just the usual, dad,’ replied Ellie, putting on a brave smile.

Ellie hadn’t told her father that she sits alone at lunch, that she stares out the window in class wishing she was beyond the playground and the fence and perhaps climbing the hill she can see in the distance. She keeps this to herself and thinks instead about her Plan of Action.


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